


Exchange of Power

by YigaClan



Category: She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018)
Genre: Anal Play, Begging, Bondage and Discipline, Butt Plugs, Dom/sub, Nonbinary Character, Other, Paddling, Sex Toys Under Clothing, Spanking, Strap-Ons, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-31
Updated: 2019-12-31
Packaged: 2021-02-27 08:08:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,532
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22053817
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/YigaClan/pseuds/YigaClan
Summary: Double Trouble decides Catra's totalitarian attitude needs an adjustment.
Relationships: Catra/Double Trouble (She-Ra)
Comments: 7
Kudos: 160





	Exchange of Power

Maybe this is exactly what she needs. Double Trouble knows it, and as much as they also know Catra would prefer not to hear it ( _ especially  _ not from them), the prospect is too tempting. It's a bit facetious, but there is truth in these games--if they feed it to her in a sugar pill, perhaps she'll bite. 

"You need to understand," comes the honey drawl of their voice, lilting over the bared skin of Catra's back and rear, "where you belong." 

Their hand suggests the softest touch between toned, golden thighs, slipping serpentine upward against the crease of her behind. Catra definitely does not miss where their fingers dip in just a bit, teasing, and furled muscle flutters at even that brief flirting of skin on skin. Double Trouble delights in seeing the hair on her nape stand on end. She puts up a front like they've never seen. 

"Do whatever you're gonna fucking  _ do _ already," Catra hisses. 

"Quite the rude one, aren't we?" 

Catra doesn't know why she tries to break free of the cuffs that force her wrists flush together behind her back;  _ she'd  _ agreed to this. Maybe just for show. Give them a reason to do something instead of just--just fucking  _ taunting-- _

Leather kisses her behind. Catra dips her back low and rocks her hips above Double Trouble's lap. Something, anything. 

A thick whistle of air whips behind her and the paddle connects with her skin. It's startling, lights that small patch of flesh ablaze like a match held just a second too long, but it doesn't get the reaction Double Trouble is hoping for. Fortunately for them, patience happens to be one of their strong suits. "I think it's about time somebody put you in your place, kitten." 

Catra audibly  _ growls _ , but that's all the protesting she manages before the pressure of a splayed hand steadies her lower back and the paddle connects with her rear. It's a muted, thudding type of pain, and it makes her jerk forward this time because the same spot twice does  _ not  _ feel good. Something else, however, does. 

The first very slight press of a blunt object at her rear, just underneath the base of her tail, makes her gasp out loud. "What the  _ fuck?  _ What the f--"

"Shh, don't fuss. Do you remember the words we talked about?"

Catra grits her jaw. Double Trouble just barely hears her mutter something half-heartedly. A razor sharp grin starts to take shape on their face, splitting like a nefarious crack in their blasé demeanor. Then, "Didn't quite catch that, kitty."

" _...Green."  _

As soon as the word leaves her lips, she's gasping again, because  _ something  _ is pushing slick and slow inside of her, stretching wider and wider until-- _ fuck _ \--her voice springs forth like fresh water in a drought, and she's moaning now into the stiff sheets of her unwelcoming cot. 

"Goodness. When your cadets called you a tightass they weren't joking."

Catra can't manage anything venomous enough to satisfy her desire to shut them  _ up _ , but she does growl. Even that doesn't last; as the widest bit of the plug breaches and her body decides for her that she'll back her hips up into it, that low rumble of warning melts into a purr so decadent that Double Trouble finds their face heating despite themselves. "Ooh, good girl. Good kitty. See how much better it feels when you relax?" 

It's fully in now, snug inside of her, and it's a strange feeling but not at all unpleasant; maybe even the opposite. Definitely the opposite. And then, with Double Trouble's hand still a grounding pressure against the dip of her spine, another _thwack_. And then another, and they don't stop, and she sucks air into her lungs and holds it because if she doesn't she'll make those _pathetic_ sounds again but fuck if it doesn't hurt. The hand on her back trails closer to the pain, soothes the reddening skin there for only a moment. 

"I hate to give ultimatums, but if you keep holding in your voice I'm going to make you hurt even worse. I'm growing tired of being nice to you. It's not in my nature." 

"You call this being  _ nice?! _ " Catra's voice squeaks on the last word and Double Trouble sighs. 

Their arm winds back and this time they swing at full force. As the paddle hits skin, a thick shock of pain goes careening up through Catra's rear, vibrating up her tailbone and into her spine and knocking the wind clear out of her lungs. Then, a strained squeal as she regains her breath, and not enough time to recover before another volley of spanks at equal and then greater force. She tenses, moans, squeezes around the plug. 

Double Trouble has to yank her hips back a few times to keep her from jerking away, and eventually they push her down low to force their knee into her back because she won't keep still. "Catra, my dear. Temper tantrums don't suit you." Their tone is patronizing, like they're speaking to a child, and Catra lets out an anguished snarl that might've been a sob-- it sounds too angry to distinguish one way or the other.

"Color?"

"Y-Yellow." 

Double Trouble sets the paddle down. They can see the fur at the base of her tail bristling, and now that she's being still the tremble in her muscles and the depth of her breaths is evident as well. 

"Talk to me, my dear."

Catra whips her head around. Her freckles are barely visible in the intensity of her blush, eyes glassy and expression pinched. She glares at Double Trouble, but behind her gaze is something else. Perhaps arousal, maybe desperation. Or both. 

"Don't stop." 

She says it in that low, reluctant voice that Double Trouble has come to know well. "Ask nicely." Their hand skims along the fierce, inflamed burgundy of her behind, coming to rest at the plug. Catra gasps and shivers; their thumb is rocking idly against its base, pushing it just slightly in and out, and it's both a mild annoyance and a subtle pleasure. 

"Please don't stop." Her voice is still low but the defensiveness in her posture has softened, her face turned away. Maybe if she doesn't look at them she won't feel the shame, won't have to put a face to her undoing. That's good enough for Double Trouble. Very good, in fact, as it seems she's making progress faster than they'd expected.

"There's my good girl." That gentle hand soothes the burn of her skin with strokes like lapping waves, but the reprieve is short-lived. Again Catra's breath seizes in her throat as her upper thighs-- _ don't scream, don't-- _ feel the pin-pricking sting of the leather, no longer dull like the first time but instead biting and staticky in a way that makes her toes curl as the same spots are abused twice over. It  _ smarts. So why do I love it so much? _

She can't  _ not _ notice how slick her inner thighs have become, how stifling and humid the heat between them. But Catra is helpless now. Only one person can give her what she wants, and it's the same one who can take it away at a moment's notice and make her hurt until she begs. She squeezes her thighs together in the brief lapse between strikes, moans softly into her hand. 

"Bad kitten. If you want it, you have to ask nicely, remember?" Double Trouble punctuates that with a pinch that skirts  _ devastatingly  _ close to where the plug is nestled between Catra's cheeks, watches as she clenches up involuntarily.

Catra whines, and decides that between pleading for attention and whining incoherently like an animal, she's better off using her words. Everything is giving in now, letting them dominate her, allowing them to degrade and debase her and--fuck, she'll say it-- _ loving  _ every bit of it. It feels good to let her guard down. It feels good to surrender. She takes a deep breath.

"Please."

"'Please' what?"

A growl-whine, exasperated and grating. "Please fuck me. Holy shit,  _ please.  _ Please _." I fucking hate you so much right now, you little shit.  _

Double Trouble is actually laughing, a quiet little humming laugh that feels like liquid warmth in Catra's ears. "That's a very good girl," they purr. "I know how hard it must be for you to give in like this, but you're doing so well. And quite honestly, I can't stand to look at you making such a mess all over yourself without a cock stuffed in you. It's pitiful."

A full-body shiver rattles Catra's body to its core. Double Trouble gives her abused behind a sweet little pat before they reach down beside the cot and retrieve their weapon of choice.

Catra glances over her shoulder. She watches as they cross straps over their bare hips (when had  _ that _ happened?), check the fit and tightness at a leisurely pace like they have nothing else to be doing. But she's not paying attention to the straps--no, not when she catches a glimpse of what she's in for, how big it looks in their hand as they stroke the silicone like it's really part of their body, just to  _ tease.  _ She decides to make a bold move.

Double Trouble purrs deep and long at the unexpected delight of Catra slowly backing up to meet them until the length is nestled in between her thighs, slipping sensual and slick against her as she looks back over her shoulder at them and rocks her hips like  _ she's  _ the one in control. Double Trouble will be the first to admit that it's unbelievably arousing, but they can't let her hold the reins any more than that. This is  _ their  _ game.

Their hands are on her hips now, sunk firmly into her flesh and spreading her open to admire how snug she is around the plug, how she flutters when they dig their nails into ripe coffee skin and bare her most private places to their gaze. None of her reactions thus far, however, compare to the way she  _ moans  _ when they slip the first little bit inside her. It stretches her, fills the empty wanting spaces inside just right and makes her ears go flat against her head, makes her back arch to take more of it while she takes deep pulls of air and releases deep, long moans in return. 

When they can go no further, Double Trouble picks up the paddle again. 

They can't neglect all that wild, beautiful hair, and so they bury their fist in her mane and the sheer power this gives them feels like a rush of blood to the head. Their eyes follow her contours, from the freckles speckling like dark stars across her back where her wrists are bound, down the ridges of her bowed spine to the base of her tail and finally stopping to admire their handiwork; her bottom, abused and burning supple red. But they haven't finished there. 

Double Trouble sets one foot in the mattress, digs in their knee, and pulls back. With their slow movement comes a droning cry from Catra, a s oft sound that she's unable to control, and Double Trouble halts their hips once they've almost slipped out. 

"Who do you belong to?" 

Catra whines, tries unsuccessfully to grind back on them and take the pleasure for herself.

Double Trouble wishes they could feel the way she seizes up when they strike her rear  _ hard _ , when the bright nova of pain crackles through skin and muscle. Catra chokes on it at first, but then clenches her teeth and practically  _ roars _ as her voice returns, tears springing hot to the corners of her eyes. Then, a soft, defeated  _ hhhn  _ sound as she relaxes from the tension. 

"You," she shudders out. 

Double Trouble bites their lip. She couldn't possibly look any sweeter, breathing hard with how she's trying to hold herself back from sinking down on their length, and so they feel it's finally time to reward her for the behavior they've been seeking. With one hand still clenched in her hair and the other at the ready with that dreaded paddle, Double Trouble surges up against Catra in one smooth motion and  _ fuck  _ if she doesn't cry out so brokenly at that, her voice going crackly around the edges like an old record played over and over til it's scratchy and strained.  _ Gorgeous. _

They take her deep, holding her down into the mattress to pound into her from behind but still striking her every few moments; just to see her tense and yelp like that, just to keep her on edge even after she's so wholly lost herself to the base instinct of needing to be claimed. She doesn't last long. How  _ full  _ she must feel, Double Trouble thinks, finally setting down the paddle to take her hips in both hands and work a nice strong rhythm into their thrusts.

Catra is grateful for this, evidently, because she suddenly goes very quiet and they realize it's because she's holding her breath on the edge of what is sure to be a very intense orgasm.

"No."

Double Trouble doesn't stop fucking her as they say this. Catra gasps. 

"You've got to be--"

"-- _ No.  _ Good kittens ask nicely."

Catra sobs, and Double Trouble  _ may  _ be feeling a little guilty, but not really. It's the least she can do for being such a pompous little brat. 

She says something that sounds very much like "please may I come" but is panted out between moans as she attempts to stave off the climactic burst boiling in her core, ready to explode.

Double Trouble grins, pauses a little longer just for maximum efficacy, and then purrs, satisfied. "Do it."

Only a moment after the words leave their lips, Catra is arching and  _ screaming.  _ It's a reedy sound, distressed and thin, and she's writhing like it hurts but it's very much the opposite and they impale her deep on the slick girth of the toy,  _ yes yes yes yes _ spilling from her lips until she can do nothing but grind against where it's pressed inside her as far is it will go.

Catra's knees give. Double Trouble watches with sheer pride as they slip out and she collapses, body wracked with weak post-orgasmic tremors that make her hips roll erratically against the stiff cot. They wait until she's mostly still to free her wrists, and Catra groans; the soreness had snuck up on her after the bliss had worn off. Her bottom is  _ wrecked _ . 

"I believe someone needs to get back to her duties."

That familiar fire in Catra's eyes has returned as she glares. "My ass is sore and you haven't taken that out yet."

Double Trouble grins, teeth like razors glinting in the dim light. "Oh no, kitty. I'm not going to, not yet. And you'd better not either-- if you come back to me tonight and it's gone, I'll make sure you can't sit for a good while, much less work on your little schemes."

They hop off the bed, laughing as Catra sputters indignantly.  
  
It's going to be a long day.


End file.
